


The Bathwater Nymph.

by morwrach



Series: A Prowl of Wampuses [5]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Bathtub Sex, Caring Percival Graves, Graves indulging his nsfw water nymph fantasies, Happy ending., M/M, Magical bath products!, Mutual recovery struggles, Nipple Play, Post-Canon Fix-It, Soft Credence Barebone, domestic setting, fluff and a tiny bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 16:33:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12039864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morwrach/pseuds/morwrach
Summary: Credence’s long hair hangs around his face, dripping pearls of froth. Constellations of tiny white flowers are caught in his dark curls. A sight for sore and lovelorn eyes – and yet unreal - like something out of a Greek myth.Can be read as a standalone.Translation into Chinese thanks to the lovely cindyfxx here:水仙子





	The Bathwater Nymph.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pineapplebreads](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pineapplebreads/gifts).



Credence Barebone discovers Pipistrelli’s Wonder Emporium on a rainy, inauspicious Thursday afternoon. It’s one of those dreary days in early Fall when there’s a turn in the air, a little tinge of winter flexing its muscles. Heavy clouds paint everything grey, and inside his boots Credence’s socks are soggy with rainwater. He’d only meant to collect some potion ingredients and return his copy of _Sisterhood of Salem_ to the lending library, but there it is…tucked between the confectioners and the hatmakers where he’s never noticed it before. The doorway to the emporium glows with soft, pinkish light, beckoning him inside out of the gloom. A surge of newfound boldness propels his feet forward through the revolving door.  
  
  
The sight which greets Credence as he stands marvelling in the entrance can only be described as akin to the glittering cavern of the forty thieves from Syrian wizarding legends. Blossoming in front of him in a riot of colour, chattering voices, splashing water, and perfumes which tickle his nose is Lulu Pipistrelli’s bustling cosmetics empire. In the centre of the shop gurgles a giant fountain with an ostentatious silver sculpture of a mermaid cavorting. Around its rim seemingly hundreds of little taps expel smoke or drops of coloured gloop – from softest tangerine to loudest violet. Credence trails shyly around the store, reading labels for frothing bath elixirs, jumping bottles of energising lotion, tinctures for skin “as soft as fwooper feathers,” and singing globes which explode underwater to release flower petals and glitter. Helpful, complimentary assistants bob and weave about, remarking without a hint of deceit “ _what lovely skin you have Sir!_ ,” “ _Perhaps some lavender hair perfume for your beautiful curls?_ ” Credence ducks his head, smiling, and shuffles away. Pipistrelli’s most popular products are displayed on a gondola: ‘Not A Wrinkle! Prevent pruny fingers at bathtime!,’ temperature-regulating bath potion, and a levitating sponge which promises to expel water like ‘real English rainclouds!’ Credence laughs giddily as he discovers a whole basin of pumpkin products from edible facemasks to cuticle cream – the world of witches truly is obsessed with pumpkins regardless of the season. Towards the back of the store, a wizard in an apron demonstrates an iridescent potion which animates bath froth into moving sailing ships and soaring thunderbirds whilst two children look on delighted.  
  
  
He happens upon the curtained off area quite by mistake, following the whims of his feet as he crosses over the shimmering Age Line on the floor and through the twitching black curtain. The products set out across pink glass shelves are lit by floating tea lights and Credence edges closer to read the labels before flushing – _‘Pinches and Tickles Bath Salts’, ‘Icy Touch Soap’_ , and – he swallows hard around the lump in his throat – _‘Seductively Slick Lubricating Bath Potion’._ He glances around self-consciously, before rushing back through the curtain trembling with embarrassment.  
  
  
Unable to resist, and emboldened by the enthusiastic encouragement of a small sales-witch, Credence counts out his loose change and returns home with a pretty paper bag of colour-changing bathwater salts, and a sample of Pipistrelli’s ‘ _A Wizard And A Gentleman’_ cologne for Percival. That evening he dares to have his first long bath in Percival’s home – and finds pure childlike happiness for the first time in years, perhaps ever. Those ugly feelings about his body seem to float away as he’s held in the gentle embrace of the water. He watches the coloured bathwater whirl through a rainbow around his bony knees and his scarred submerged shoulders, and even the slight deformed curve of his back doesn’t bother him for once. It becomes a little weekly routine to pop into Pipistrelli’s cave of wonders after errands, to wander through the now familiar shelves and choose something inexpensive to take home – but he never dares to venture into the adult section again. Week after week, he lies on the bottom of Graves’ large clawfoot tub and lazily practices the bubblehead charm, half-pretending to be a merperson, lost in some sunken Atlantean world before emerging clean and relaxed and renewed. Sometimes Percival will knock gently at the door before venturing through the clouds of sweet floral steam to kiss his nose or wash his long hair with those big strong hands. Credence flushes when his man’s deep dark gaze reverently traces the lines of his body, resting longingly on his nipples. He always makes a half-hearted effort to cover himself with islands of bubbles, all the while anticipating the happy bliss that comes when Graves dips those big strong hands below the surface of the water to grasp and caress. Between kisses, Credence’s flustered words of love are lost in the steam.

  
  
***

  
  
When Pipistrelli’s ‘ _Fabulous Fall!’_ products come in, and Credence is practically bouncing with excitement, Graves does what any respectable man with a large chequebook and a beautiful young lover does: he promptly purchases enough products to keep the Emporium afloat for years to come. As he’d hoped, Credence is beside himself with delight, hugging Graves so tightly that he's wheezing for breath.  
  
  
A few days, and a mountain of casefiles later, Graves comes home to find the apartment silent but for the sounds of splashing. He pushes the bathroom door open gently, and is instantly embraced by a fog of honeyed, steam-warmed air. The familiar smell brings a smile to his face: it’s the habitual scent of Credence’s post-bath skin as he curls up against him in bed. There’s a splashing noise as Credence emerges from under the pastel-coloured water, and Graves’ breath catches in his throat. He’s so beautiful - from the blushing tips of his elfin ears to the proud curve of his lips, his strong chin, those bright feline eyes gazing shyly at him. Credence’s long hair hangs around his face, dripping pearls of froth. Constellations of tiny white flowers are caught in his dark curls. A sight for sore and lovelorn eyes – and yet unreal - like something out of a Greek myth.  
  
Drawing close, Graves reaches out and traces a curl with the tip of his index finger, touching a flowerhead gently.  
  
_"It’s called Blessings of Flora,”_ whispers Credence, as if sharing a great secret.  
  
_“My very own water nymph.”_ Graves says fondly, _“Are you going to lure me into your forbidden lake?”_  
  
  
He trails a hand through the water, catching his fingertips on a rosy nipple and eliciting a satisfying gasp from Credence. He finds that he desperately wants to press his mouth to one and suck – his boy always makes the most appetising noises.  
  
  
_“You could come in – if, if you want,”_ murmurs Credence softly, looking up at Graves with big wide eyes, nerves showing in the faint movement of his lower lip. A flotilla of tiny white flower petals swirls lazily around his exposed knobbly knee. Graves hesitates, wondering if Credence is perhaps offering out of gratitude for the gift – and pauses with his fingers on the knot of his tie.  
  
  
_"I want you to,”_ Credence says softly, earnestly, surging up out of the water and exposing the smooth lines of his pale shoulders. Droplets of water have caught in the dip of his throat and Graves considers licking them away.  
  
  
_“In which case, it would be my pleasure to oblige_ ,” he offers smoothly, dipping to press a kiss to Credence’s waiting mouth. His sweetheart deepens it almost immediately, kissing him hard, and making soft little _“mmm”_ s low in his throat. There’s a slosh of water as Credence kneels to press closer, wet fingers pulling at Graves’ shirt buttons. He gives a little huff as the buttons refuse to cooperate and Graves pulls back.  
  
  
_“Patience,”_ he chides firmly, before hurriedly removing his clothes with a swift swoop of his hand. Credence laughs warmly. With a click of his fingers, they fold themselves into a neat pile atop the bathroom chair and Graves sinks into the bath, sighing as warm water embraces his aching work-sore muscles. Great waves roll across the surface of the water as he leans back against the side of the bath and stretches his legs. He doesn’t remember ever being able to fit two people in this bath so spaciously before – his thighs slide against Credence’s ankles, but logic dictates that they should really be tangled uncomfortably together. He eyes Credence a little suspiciously, quirking a heavy eyebrow.  
  
  
_“I cast an expansion charm on the bathtub!”_ Credence grins brightly, demonstrating the improvement by floating backwards and raising his feet above the foam. Graves devours the sight of those slim ankles and those unshapely feet which he loves to rub warm on cold nights. He misses them when they disappear beneath the froth again, and stifles a laugh when Credence flops over in an ungainly fashion, floating forward on his belly like a salamander. A great tidal wave of lavender water splashes in an arc over his scarred back, but he hardly seems to notice.  
  
  
_“Look!”_ he exclaims rapidly, stretching out his long pale fingers _“no wrinkling!”_ Graves leans forward, seizing both ghostly wrists and the noise which Credence emits at the feeling of being firmly held goes straight to his groin.  
  
  
_“Have I caught a nymph?”_ Graves asks, gently tugging Credence into his lap and sending a wave of glistening pink water sloshing over the side of the tub. He leans close, laying kiss after kiss to the warm perfumed skin of Credence’s neck, before remarking _“Why, he’s the most beautiful creature I have ever seen."_  
  
  
Credence only squeaks in response, hiding behind his hair, and flower petals drift onto his shoulders like snowfall. Graves lets up his hold on his wrists in favour of sliding his hands down the wet skin of Credence’s ribcage. His boy is already trembling under his hands, and his breathing becomes rapid when Graves presses his lips to the hollow of that milky throat and sucks.  
  
  
_“Percyyy,”_ he whines, giving a languid little roll of his hips, pressing his hardness to Graves’ own.  
  
  
Graves worries more lovebites into the wet hot skin of his neck, revelling in his boy’s frantic breaths and long pleading cries. He relents, eventually. _“Where would you like my mouth, hm?”_ Graves asks, playfully. He chastely kisses Credence’s reddened cheek _“here?”_ Credence shakes his head insistently, and Graves carefully tucks a lock of that deep black hair behind his ear before kissing the lobe, _“here?”_ Credence squirms, frowning a little.  
  
  
_“Well,”_ he says with a studied thoughtful tone, _“I don’t know what nymphs like, but I know what my Credence likes…”_ He guides a wide-eyed Credence to lean back before pressing his lips over one rosy nipple and losing himself in kissing and sucking and biting. Credence’s uncontrolled gasps and fitful moans echo around the bathroom, and the twitches of his hips become urgent, frantic as Graves shifts to the other nipple, intent on his task. He revels in tracing the hard little nub with his tongue. There’s nothing more satisfying than rendering Credence unable to make words, to have him pliant under his hands, murmuring and keening helplessly.  
  
  
After a series of heartfelt sobs and insistent presses of his darling’s hips which send water slopping around their bodies, Graves takes pity. With one final kiss to Credence’s chest, he relents, pulling back. He wraps one strong hand tightly around Credence’s cock, only to find his darling shaking his head frantically. _“N-no”_ he manages, _“M’ too close, I want –want you inside – “_  
  
  
_“Of course, sweet boy”_ Graves manages, fighting his desire to immediately hoist Credence up and push him down onto his cock, to fuck up into him with hard, claiming thrusts. As his darling whimpers needily into the crook of his neck, Graves reaches down to touch him and groans when he finds his tight hole silky-slick and yielding under his enquiring fingertips. Thank Merlin for lubricating bath potion. He really must remember to commend Lulu Pipistrelli on the most important invention since the floo network. The feeling is so pleasant that Graves finds it impossible to stop pressing and stroking, as Credence keens, gasping _“Percy, please. I need you -”_ As if to emphasise his point, he pushes back, taking the tips of Graves fingers inside his welcoming warmth.  
  
  
_"Shh, I’m here,”_ Graves comforts, kissing his cheek before guiding him into position with a firm, directive touch. Credence sinks down on his cock slowly, hot and tight, inch by aching inch, all bath-warmed skin and rosy cheeks from steam and shyness. He loops his arms around his man’s neck, shaking as he presses kisses to his open mouth. They both moan brokenly when he’s fully seated.  
  
  
Soon everything merges into a blissful fog – the sensation of warm water, Credence sweetly tight, clenching around him, the obscene sound of bathwater sloshing around them as Credence bounces in his lap, his soft moans and happy sighs echoing around the tiled walls.  
  
  
_“I love you – I love you – I love you,”_ Credence intones breathily, rising and falling, his hands gripping Graves’ broad shoulders.  
  
  
He can feel his resolve slipping from the sight of Credence riding his cock alone, from watching the water run over his lover’s body, from the quivering grip of his ass, the wet strangled noises as he whines towards his own orgasm. It doesn’t take much to push Credence over the edge, just a deep gentle kiss and a rough rub of Graves’ thumb over an already over-sensitised nipple. With a bruising grip on Credence’s stalled hips and a couple of hard thrusts deep into his boy, Graves joins him with a choked growl.  
  
  
_“I love you too,”_ he murmurs against the top of Credence’s head, pillowed against his chest. The water is still perfectly warm, and he thinks he could probably fall asleep like this, with his arms wound around his sweetheart, feeling his warm huffs of breath against his wet skin. There are still some little blossoms caught in the back of his hair.  
  
  
_"Percy,"_ Credence asks drowsily, _"Do cleaning charms work underwater?"_

 

**Author's Note:**

> So Lush's Hallowe'en products just came in, and I got very excited...and this happened. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> I'm writing quite slowly at the moment thanks to being snowed under with my work, but I have lots of half-written WIP stories for this series! [You can find me on tumblr @nettlekettle](http://nettlekettle.tumblr.com/) \- feel welcome to come chat to me or ask questions! :)


End file.
